“So does Majken.”
Another shrug. “And you love your sister. Else you wouldn’t be here.”
“Or I’m curious.”
“That she might blow your cover? Because let’s face it, Benjamin, if people knew who you were you’d have more than a mark on your head.”
He takes a step towards me and I see the glint of a blade. I decide that now would be a good time to go. My hands on the bottom of the window, the lock thankfully off the top. I push it up and walk out, a small balcony stopping anyone from falling.
There’s no sound of Leo’s voice. I don’t feel him behind me. I simply climb over the railings and hold myself dangling above the next shelf, a slightly bigger one that’s easy to land on.
A slam from above tells me the window’s been shut and the only way is down. The next drop is a leap of faith as I can’t entirely see what’s below and I land with a jolt and feel the ledge crumble.
Grazed hands catch the top of a wall and my fall is broken by a bin. I jump off and crouch to the floor, not seeing anyone around. Too cold; too wet as the rain’s now started.
As if nothing’s happened, I head back round to the reception, seeing my bag waiting for me, the receptionist on the phone. I give him a nod and pick up the bag. As soon as I’m somewhere private and look to see what’s been left inside it.
There’s no way I’ve been allowed to leave without a parting gift.
* * *
Glasgow looks almost pretty in the morning light. There’s a flicker of amber across the city from the autumn sun and for a moment, I’m glad to be home. I actually like this city, only an hour or so from the mountains and the lochs which are home.
I head towards the hotel where I’ve been reliably informed Elise is having afternoon tea with some of her school friends. My beard is reduced back down to scruff, the jeans and thick coat now a dark grey suit with no coat needed because its oddly warm for November in Glasgow.
The doorman holds the door for me, giving a nod that makes me wonder if he does recognise me from somewhere or whether it’s the suit giving a false impression that I’m someone more important.
I head through the marble and tartan to the lounge where Elise will be, holding court with her admirers.
“Table reserved for Smith.” The waiter nods and smiles, ticking my name off a list and then leads to me a window with a place set up for lunch.
Elise is in the corner with six other women, all looking as if they just stepped out of the hairdressers, some with elaborate styles that look almost painful. She doesn’t see me while I order, a coffee and some form of posh sandwich, she’s too busy being immersed in whatever scandal she’s describing.
I feel sorry for her.
Elise would’ve been the perfect princess; scheming, confident, enough genuineness to actually show caring. If she’d have married Lennox, she’d have been the perfect queen. And she’d had a taste of what she could’ve been, before it was ripped away from her.
There’s no glance or acknowledgement that’s she’s seen me, not until one of her companions turns her head and smiles.
It’s flirtatious, the sort that’s meant to catch a man’s attention, a siren’s song. She’s pretty, dark red hair that’s shiny and looks slightly wild, the sort you’d imagine spread across your pillow or wrapped around your cock.
But she isn’t Blair.
She says something to Elise, who looks over, the smile on her face disappearing as if someone’s wiped it.
I lift my glass as a toast and smile. And then I wait.
Two hours later and I’m drinking Darjeeling tea with a nip of whisky waiting for me after. Elise is the last woman left at the table, finishing a glass of white wine and checking her phone.
Every so often, she looks up at me. Sometimes I hold her gaze; other times I choose to ignore it.
“Could you send the lady in the corner a glass of champagne?” I ask the waiter as he passes.
“Certainly. Anything for yourself, sir?”
“I’ll have one too.” Although I have no intention of drinking it.
I watch her when it arrives, the waiter pointing me out as the person who has gifted her the drink. Once he’s left, she makes her way over to my table and sits down, the glass in hand.
